girls' don't have choices anymore. The famine was long, but two years back the feast started and it shows no stopping signs.

The two next to me look my way. "Hi girls."

"A Taurus, how about you?"

"Biorythms? Is that a Catholic cure for pregnancy? Nope, I don't do windows, meetings, biorythms or eat anything that moves on its own."

Kinky!"

"Hey, what are they? Handcuffs? You've got handcuffs in your purse?

"Put them on me? No way baby."

"You'll both do what outside? Hmmmm. Well, I guess you can't kidnap me around here. And you'll both do it? Sure, slip 'em on."

Cuffed and Sticked

"CLICK. CLICK" I'm handcuffed. They're laughing. So am I. They have wonderful fingers with nails six feet long. Why not go on outside and let these two get at me with my hands behind my back? Besides, I slipped my wallet to the Dolly, they can't steal anything.

Hey, we've picked up a third fox with looks that'll stop a construction site dead. She's as big as the others. Two brunettes and a redhead. Nice. Whoa, this helpless feeling's sexy. I like it. The turgid gloom parts as we pass unnoticed to the back door. The parking lot's cool air hits like a coke rush.

"Lean against this van? Sure honey if it'll make it easier for you to get me out. Oh, taking my belt off first. Nice." Wow! I must have expanded about 14 inches, this trip is primo. Hmmmm. With a faint smile she restrings my belt through the loops and the cuffs in the back. My wrists are closer to my buns than siamese twins.

Both brunettes poke and pull the bows froin their hair. I watch their dazzling nails knot them about my elbows. "Hey! Come on. Don't tie them to the door handles like that. I can't move. Stop that! Stop...." Damn. I can't pull away from the side of this van. But now they lean against me, stroking me. Well, maybe this isn't so bad. What's the redhead up to? She's ferreting around in her purse, standing things on the roof of the nearest car. Looks like makeup stuff; lipstick, compacts, brushes. What's going on?

They hold my head still for the lipstick. In the overhead lights, I can see 42

it's a bloody crimson. Then they slaver on everything else. The works. When they finally show me a mirror, a slutty but pretty girl peers back through long false eyelashes, liner and a ton of different colored eyeshadows. There's so much color on my cheeks that my real blush can't show through. And my lips look eternally wet. A little mous and my longish hair's in a hot perky style.

"What do you mean I've got a choice. Take this stuff off right now. NOW! What choice? Either you'll turn me loose with the handcuffs and makeup or I go for a ride with you in your van? But I can't go back into the bar looking like this. I'll be a laughing stock. How will I get out of these handcuffs? Who are you? I've never seen you in here before. Let me go. No! Don't let me go. Not like this. Okay, okay. I'll take the ride. But where?"

Caped Crusaderess

I'm a girl package. A corsete's squeezed my waist to a chocking 24" and it's stuffed with gel sacks that jiggle on my buns and bust. It's a step-in affair that smooths my gentitals into a perfect impersonation of a love mound. Shiny black panty hose under thigh high red boots with pencil thin heels have me hobbled. But this Super Girl costume's the worst. It's red with a huge black belt. A one piece leotard that covers me from wrist to crotch. And it's cut so high up on my thighs that the crotch cover's almost a G string.

It's the cape that's got me helpless. Yea, the cape. I'm still cuffed and it's really a sort of single glove that traps my arms that are snuggled into the cape by a zipper hidden inside. This way you can't tell I'm tied at all. The way it's fixed over my shoulders with small velcro spots, it just hangs naturally as if I've got my hands clasped behind me. But the damn thing's got my elbows pinned together and that strains my twin cannons against the big yellow S on my chest. There's no way I can untie this golden bow holding the thing around my neck. There're twenty inches of spreader bar locked between my knees, jacking them wide apart.

They shaved my head! Yea, shaved it clean off. Then they rubbed me down with a dilapatory cream goodbye hair. There's a long wild blond wig glued to my head, swept back on the right so that this one long red earing dangles free to my shoulder. And I'm sporting a red and blue tiara with a big S in the front. What a makeup job. I look like the sleaziest comic book character ever. S for Super Slut. Super Slut from hair to heel, hobbled and helpless in a sexy rig.

Wanna Date?

At the moment, I'm sitting on a couch. Turns out the red-head's named Camilla. She's the leader of this thing. She's a psychiatrist. Can you believe it? A professional woman getting her kicks feminizing men. Jung would love this. 43